One Day More
by purpledragon6
Summary: I shall not forsake my vow! Cosette shall have a father now! (The lives of Valjean and his foster child during the time skip).


**A/N: If you can imagine this, I am bored, with not else much to do but my school work. Well, the school work that comes from all but one class, which is French. In French, our professor announced that we will be watching a movie instead of doing work. The first half of that movie disturbed me, and the next was just heart-warming, but sadly it did not touch upon the part I was most interested in. **

**Chapter Summary: Prologue: The Carpet in The Home: Cosette adapts quickly to her new life in her new home with Jean Valjean.**

**P.S: This whole chapter was actually part of a writing project I was working on but since it went no where I decided to change it. I'm sorry if it makes little sense but I needed a prologue for this and this was all I could think of.**

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The bells of the town ring loudly, greeting the rising sun with the sounds of their chimes and beckoning it over the awaiting land. Inside the homes of the surrounding area, figures begin to rise from their slumber as quick as the sun does and attempts to hurry about to start their days, all going about their business in the order it had always been since the day they began to walk among the earth. All except the new inhabitant in the home in the center of town, who stayed in to rest just a bit longer, something that she never had the pleasure of doing up until now. Though, eventually when the sun did rise and show brightly into her bedroom window, she rose from her bed and shuffled along the carpeted floor.

This inhabitant was named Cosette or otherwise was simply called 'Little child' by the man she in turned now dubbed 'Papa'. She was a child of many emotions these days, and they showed much more, though her years of abuse back in the inn sometimes would cause her to go silent again. Though, when she did let a bit of an emotion crack through, any at all, all of them rounded down to just flat out joy. When she was quiet about them, her tangled blonde hair seemed to reflect what mood she was in, the more tangles the more upset she was, this was usually because she would only let someone brush it when she was in a good mood.

You see, she was a very odd child like that, but not that it was a bad thing. It made her very unique, and very much respected in the home.

She wasn't the oldest of the house of course, or the prettiest, having a skin discoloration from an earlier illness she had contracted at the age of two on her otherwise narrow forehead and dull blonde hair that was normally fell in a mess around her shoulders. No, what made her respected in the house was her strong and leadership like quality and almost stupid amount of bravery that she showed now that she was no longer under the 'care' of the Thénardiers. A prime example of this bravery had been the house itself, and the way she carried herself after she had obtained her stay in it. With a limp in her left leg and a crooked smile on her lips, she paced the house's hallow walls every day as part of her own custom, as if to keep the air from getting stale by stirring it, or perhaps it was something else that only she could tell you. Something that would never be known to anyone except herself and anyone who shared her memories of things who were long since lost to history. Only one person knew this though, and he had made a promise not to tell a soul.

No one could ever tell what that child was thinking all hours of the day either, all but her. Even with her smile and the clean brush of her hair, Cosette always seemed so sad and yet so at peace with things. Perhaps she was thinking of the act that had brought her make-shift family together. The night that a stranger had greeted her mother in the alley before her death, and then later come to the inn to collect her, or perhaps she dwelt on far more distant memories, maybe even the events of her first few years of life after memories had begun to form in her mind. Either way, the thoughts themselves stirred such emotion in such a strong girl that Valjean swore he sometimes saw tears fluttering behind his foster child's upturned eyelashes. The only other time he had ever seen Cosette cry was that fall, over two months ago when they first arrived home. When her feet first touched the warm carpet beneath them, and the first time she could laugh or cry out loud without being scolded or hit.

It was the same patterned carpet that she walked along now, making a careful note of each step she made as she went about her business of stirring the air of the hallway, as she did every morning for the past two months, heading in the same direction as always. She continued on at this modest pace until she finally came to a halt in front of the bedroom door at the end of the hall. With the clean air behind her, she reached up her hand and gently knocked on the door, then a little louder before announcing in a clear tone, reflecting the happiness that she felt this fine morning.

"Papa! It is time to wake up."

Her words hung in the air now, replacing anything stale about it before she quickly turned on her heels and scampered down the hallway and down towards the steps, mindless to the sound of the bedroom door swinging open after her. Today was another adventure, and she did not have time to wait around.


End file.
